Various Citrus-based Diseases

As I sorted through images to find just the right one for this post, I stumbled upon the following:

I found the image strangely heartening.  

The fact that the ticks are cavorting around on top of a dime means that they are probably at least mildly interested by money, right?

So, maybe you can pay them to leave you alone? 

 Like bullies who take lunch money off cowering schoolyard unfortunates.

 Like all those mafioso-types in films who say that it would be such a shame if something happened to your very nice place of business- such as, maybe, an intense, fuel-soaked inferno tragically burning it all to ashes. And maybe you would give a small sum to help them make sure that such a terrible thing would never come to pass.

Like that?

I would certainly give ticks many, many dimes to leave me alone in the future.  

One run-in with Lyme disease is all a person really needs, thanks very much.

On Thursday night, I felt a bit tired and took some Advil.

By Saturday afternoon, I was in the hospital emergency room with a fever of 104°F.

I never even saw the one that got me.  It was apparently a kamikaze ninja tick- it snuck in, bit me behind the left knee and then ran off back into the mysterious forest from whence it came. 

 Creepy little bastard.

I spent two nights in the hospital.  The first night wasn't too bad- I was quite delirious and hardly remember it. What I mostly recall are  vivid hallucinations about a tiny black kitten made out of crumpled paper. 

 There was also a turkey riding around in the back seat of my dad's pickup.

By day two I felt lots better, though weak.  But I was certainly alert enough to enjoy the amusing company of my roomate, a rather excentric old lady.  She shouted quite a bit.  And when she wasn't shouting, she was burping and farting.  It was kind of hard to decide which was worse. While she was yelling, I'd wish she'd shut up, but then when she did, what followed was no day at the park, either. 

 I wish to god that I was making this all up, but sadly, it is all true.

The kids came to visit me at the hospital.  They regretted that they hadn't brought a bunch of limes.  they could then scatter them across me as I lay in my hospital bed and take a photo that could be captioned in a humorous fashion:, such as:  "Poor mom has Lime disease"

The loling would have been endless, I am sure.

At any rate, I am back home now, taking antibiotics and trying to rest a bit. 

And I'll be keeping  some spare change in the pocket of my robe...just in case.

BTW- Happy Fourth of July!!!!!!

It's been raining for the last few days and I haven't been able to resist torturing my kids with a very bad joke that I first heard back in the halls of Lakeview Elementary School.
Why don't I inflict it on you, too?
Q:If April showers bring May flowers, what do May flowers bring?
A:Pilgrims.
OK, possibly the worst joke ever- but I figure that kids need to be exposed to this kind of stuff in the home so they have a good resistance to it later in life...

The kids all have a day off school tomorrow. The older ones are even getting Friday off. I just hope the weather improves so that we can get some gardening done. We have to get our potatoes in soon or suffer the shame of having to buy all of our potatos in the fall.

And now the bad news. It's the bad news that is probably going to turn into very bad news in the near future: Mr. Darcy had been looking much improved, but is now getting worse again. I'll take him to the vet again on Friday, but I'm afraid that they've really done all they can for him. Cats are supposed to live a long time, right?
Ours is only eight years old.
I am SO not ready for Mr. D to go.

The first bit of news I have is that our Mr. Darcy is looking a lot better. The meds have eased his breathing and he seems to enjoy life again. It's a pretty calm life, as he spends most of the day in a chair by the fireplace. He gets up for the litter box and food and that's it.
So, he's not the cat he was. but we're glad to have him around for as long as he can stay with us...
I was very relieved to see Mr. D feeling better, as I had a busy weekend planned.
Today was the day I'd promised to help a friend (single mom) clean the junk out of her yard and garage. My two eldest elected to help out, too. And the twins came along to play with the cats there. As the friend is a cat breeder, there are plenty of them.
We ended up filling a huge bin:


This was only about a quarter of what needed to be thrown away (And no, I'm not including Tya, Sev and their pal in that statement!) but we only had the one bin.

It only took us about an hour to do it, which was good, as I still had sewing to do back at home.
Yes, we're going to yet another Faire and I needed to get a cloak sewn for Tya. This Faire is tomorrow in the village of Cluse, which is celebrating the 700th anniversary of the town charter. Should be great fun!
I might even dress up myself!

I have blogged quite a few times about our two cats. We have our Number One Principal Main Cat (AKA Mr. Gaspar Darcy) and our Number Two Adorable Back-up Cat (aka Cleo/ Meeper/ Girl Kitty)

This is Mr. D in happier days.

The days are less happy now because he's very, very ill.

He'd been under the weather for about a week when I took him to see the vet last Thursday. The vet thought it was pneumonia, but the antibiotics didn't help. By Sunday, things seemed dire and on Monday, I was pretty sure he was going to die.

The vet that saw him on Monday quickly determined that our Gaspar had no infection of the lungs... In fact, his lungs were full of water because his heart is diseased and has congestive heart failure.

And that is just as bad as it sounds.

He's on medications now and is at home with us, but the prognosis is bad. Most cats with his condition and symptoms only live an average of 92 days after diagnosis.

It's crazy how bad it feels even just to write that....

Blogspot still seems to be having problems. I can't get even a single picture to load on my blog, which is rather a shame as things are finally progressing again on our room!


Anyway, as I blogged in a previous entry, the builder showed up on Feb. 4, got the walls up and most of the roof on, then wrapped it all in plastic and ran off.
Finally, today (12 days later!) his team showed upagain. They weren't exactly bright and early, either. It was 3pm-ish already, so they got quite a late start.

But they're out there right now putting the roof tiles on, which is nice. It will be even nicer when we have windows, a door and insulation...

If you want an idea of what it's all looking like, go here. It's a Photobucket album of the room going up. It will be of interest to you home renovation fans out there. For the rest of you, not so much.

Sorry this post is so lackluster. I am miserable with a particularly rotten cold. It's giving me a bad cough, making me sneeze and slowly sucking away my will to live...

Here's what's going on in my life right now (in no particular order)

1. My cold/flu has gotten worse. The constant, wracking cough is quite the deal, let me tell you.

2. I now have 7 (count 'em: SEVEN) English students now and may even be getting an 8th one this month. I've had to add a second class on Wednesday mornings. Furthermore, the father of one of my students might be up for private lessons, as well. I haven't advertised or anything- it's just been word of mouth- and I'm astounded at how well it's going!

3. The meeting with the anti-AmE English teacher at the twins' school has been set! I'll be seeing him at 11:45 this coming Monday. It will be my unenviable task to point out to him that there are over 250 MILLION people living in the USA and that, contrary to his belief, they are not all speaking English wrong.
Good luck to me.

4. For the last few weeks I have been reading the Laura Ingalls Wilder books to my girls at bedtime. They are 11 and 16 years old, but still like to cuddle up on my bed and be read to. It's the best time of the whole day... Tonight we're starting "By the Shores of Silver Lake". Great stuff, written in solid American English.

5. We have a houseguest arriving tomorrow for the weekend. C. is an old friend of JP's. He's from a little town in the Vosges mountains that is famous for linens- sheets, towels, tablecloths, dishcloths, etc. I guess he couldn't take the excitement anymore and decided to come for a nice rest ches nous. Our village is very soothing, containing no shops of any kind - it features a church, a tiny school and many, many, many cows.
He'll stay until Monday. C. is a nice guy and low-maintenence, which is good.

That's it for now. I really need to get some sleep and try to shake this cold. It's completely ruining my enjoyment of the gorgeous fall weather we've been having...

I woke up on Saturday morning and my first thought was "OMG! I have a hangover?!"

Then I realized that:

a. I hadn't drank any alcohol the night before. At all.

b. I hadn't had a drink all month, even.

and also

c. The last time I had a hangover was probably 20 years ago.

This didn't actually make me fell any better. Quite the opposite. I would have been comforted to have a simple cause behind the dry mouth, pounding head, nausea and general aches...one that would mean it would all go away by the end of the day.

Alas, the convulsive sneezing began and kicked off a long, miserable weekend that promises to turn into a long, miserable week.

I've missed my blog and my blog friends. I haven't had my computer on for the last three days. That means that not only have I not been posting, I haven't even been able to keep up with my fave blogs and leave comments, as I am wont to do. Rest assured that I have not abandoned my blog, or yours.

Also, many thanks to those of you have sent kind emails asking about my unusual silence.

I am off for a nice lie-down now....

This rotten case of whatever I've got (plague, perhaps?) has really got me down.

I haven't even had the computer on for two days, reserving my energy for the strictly necessary things in life. That mainly means laundry and feeding the cats. And also skiing. Taking the twins skiing, I mean. We went up to Les Haberes yesterday afternoon and they had a lesson with an instructor while I huddled in a corner of the café , coughing and drinking tea with lemon. They were in good hands with Jean-Claude. He seemed very sensible and patient, about 60 years old- though it's hard to tell with ski instructors. His skin was hard, brown and wrinkled, giving him the look of a very fit, elderly turtle. A nice turtle. The girls said he was kind and very helpful.



Monday afternoon, I was back at the school giving another English lesson. As I finished up, the new teacher asked if I would come back on Friday.

"Isn't it usually on Thursdays?" I asked.

"I'd like to take them to the library on Thursday" said the teacher.

"Oh. Do you have someone to run it?" was my surprised response. As far as I knew, the other Libarary Lady (Olivier's mom) wasn't available this week and no one had asked me.

The teacher said "????" and then she added, a bit frazzled, "There's no libararian? I need to find someone to run it? How does this all work?"

And of course I said not to worry and I'd be there Thursday all afternoon for the library. And on Friday for English again.

I'm glad to help out- don't get me wrong. But I do think it's rather scandalous that the school board won't pay for an actual English teacher and a real librarian. They say they are committed to keeping the small village school open, but more and more elements of the education offered there are falling by the wayside.
.......

All has become clear now. This is not just plague. It's also stomach flu.
Right after writing about the village school above, I had to abandon my post and have an ugly experience in the bathroom. I won't get too graphic, but this is not good.

I hope it clears up by this afternoon. Otherwise the children of Saint André won't get to go to the library this week. And as there is a two week holiday coming up, that would be a bit sad. No books for the kids over the vacation...

Thanks so much to everyone for all the emails and comments wishing me a speedy recovery.
I guess all those good vibes are working their magic, as I do seem to be getting better.
Slowly.
Today I managed to clean the house a bit and even did a load of laundry. And at my house, laundry is a real hurdle- believe me. The washer is down in the cellar and the cellar can only be reached by going out of the house, walking around to the front yard and then descending the icy cement steps. As you can imagine, the laundry facilities seem kind of distant and inconvenient when it's snowing and you're loaded down with a big basket of clothes. And if you're sick , the washer may as well be located in central Nepal.

Besides the excitement of clean laundry, there's not too much going on here...
Valentine is studying for her "Brevet Blanc" next week. For those of you who don't know the intricacies of the French educational system, the Brevet is a huge exam that kids take at the end of 9th grade. It is a written exam that tests them on everything they should know to this point in their education. And it's on the basis of this that the kids are mercilessly sorted out: High scorers will go on to "Lycée", where they will study to eventually pass their "Bac" test and then go on to university.
The ones who don't do well on the Brevet will be divided into two groups: Kids that have a history of good grades, but who just didn't do well on the test will REPEAT 9th grdae and try to take the test again next year. The remainder ( kids with poor grades and bad marks on the Brevet) will either quit school, do an apprenticeship or attend some kind of professional school...

And so it is that a French youngster's future gets determined before he or she is even 15 years old. Based on ONE test.
And you thought the SAT/ACTs were scary....

Right now Valentine is reviewing her class notes for an hour every night, preparing for the practise Brevet (Brevet Blanc) that will be given at her school next week. Most of the good private schools offer this option, so that their students will be well-prepared for the real Brevet at the end of the year.

After the Brevet Blanc, it will be vacation time again.
Yes, you read that right. The French schools will be on holiday again already! It's time for the traditional two-week long ski break.
And this year, we're actually going to be skiing! Even me, if I've gotten over this rotten cold/flu...

I am feeling a little better.
Not much, but a bit.

Woe is me...

Dreadful hardly covers it. This flu I've had since Sunday feels a lot like malaria (and I know from malaria), but without the "could be fatal" aspect of that disease.


On Sunday, I felt like a zombie.
On Monday I felt like a zombie having a really bad day.
On Tuesday I felt like a zombie that had been dismembered, incinerated and then re-animated by a voodoo practitioner with a particularly sick sense of humour.


That is to say, Tuesday was kind of a low point. I'd run out of medications, so there wasn't even an aspirin in the house. And the concept of me making myself a cup of tea seemed about as unlikely and intimidating as me ascending Mt Everest wearing a bikini.
Wasn't gonna happen.


But by some miracle, a friend happened to call up. "Wow! You sound awful! Do you need anything? I'll be passing by this afternoon."
And so it was that I got some meds again, including some crazy powder from England that apparently restores zombies to a more attractively life-like state.
No, it wasn't cocaine. I don't think....
It was called "Lemsip" on the package, anyway.

So, with the help of the magic powder, I was able to venture out of my home yesterday afternoon. Of course, I still had a racking cough, runny nose, hollow eyes and a general appearance and comportment that led perfect strangers to come up to me and ask things like: "Are you all right?" "Do you need help?" "Are you sure it's not TB?" and even ""Ummm...Are you sick?", the latter delivered in an appropriately dryly humorous tone that made me laugh/cough until I turned purple.
But if I had tried to venture out the day before, people probably would have waved torches in my face and shouted "Back, foul undead fiend!", so I counted myself lucky.

Today I slept until nearly noon and anticipate heading straight back to bed as soon as this is posted.

Stay well, my friends.

Ever since we moved out of our old house in Zogona, there has been a plague upon us. Living in Dassasgho has made us all sick.
What's up with that?
Only Valentine seems to have escaped. I had thought I was immune, but I spent a very hard night last night and am not feeling any better this morning.

However, despite my sad state, I climbed into the car this morning, ready to face a day full of errands. It helps that I have a driver- I certainly couldn't have driven myself.
The minute he turned on the engine and started backing out, I said "WHAT is that NOISE?"
Mahama gave me a look that said "Obviously out of her mind with fever", but I could hear a strange noise, just above the usual engine racket.
He couldn't hear it. Nor had my husband heard anything when he was driven to his office just minutes before.
But it sounded not quite all right.
Mahama sighed and , humouring me, got out and opened the hood.

The car that I want to sell, like NOW, had an unattractive patch of fresh oil ornamenting the usually pristine engine.
We had a leak.
I knew it.
I don't know much about cars... but I love music. Maybe that's what tipped me off? Sensitivity to the "music" of the motor? Funny the driver didn't notice. At any rate, he was pretty impressed by my instant diagnosis.

If I'd had more energy, I might have cursed or wept a bit. But I just stoically sent the thing off to our mechanic, who will probably emigrate to America off the profits he's made fixing this stupid car that I've barely owned for 10 months.

How I'm going to get everthing done by Saturday, I do NOT know.

I am kind of forgetful lately. JP is asking me if it’s early-onset senility. But he’s just crabby because he has had to wear the same pants for about a week. I dropped off his other two pairs at the tailor and kept forgetting to pick them up. But I feel like I do have excuses for my forgetfulness. Yesterday, for example, besides writing a huge blog entry, I was also much occupied by Sev. He was pretty ill. Malaria, again. He woke up complaining of nausea, but as it was well-known in our household that Sev had a big geography test that day, his claims were met with a certain amount of scepticism. His siblings were merciless. I, being the mom, was kind but firm. I took his temperature (normal) and told him that without a fever and/or vomiting, there was no way he was staying home. He listlessly ate a bowl of cereal and then promptly threw up all over the bathroom. It was extremely convincing. So, he and I spent a pretty rough day. But thanks to the proper medications and a good night’s sleep he was perfectly well this morning.

Sev is sick. We had the doctor come have a look at him last night. It looks like a throat infection and malaria, with bit of typhoid fever thrown in for good measure. I'll admit, it all sounds dreadful. But that's life in Burkina for you. The common cold is a rare bird. We go in for the exotic around here: meningitis, cholera and the like. But at least the cures are readily available, for the wealthy, at least. So, Sev is on antibiotics and Malarone. He's sleeping right now and hoping to be miraculously cured by tomorrow at noon, when he is scheduled to take off on an overnight New Year's Eve camping trip with a group of friends. The church youth group has been planning this since September, so he really doesn't want to miss it.
In the spirit of optimism, I did start gathing his camping gear today. (As it's a church activity, I figure that God might at least make a little effort in the miracle department) I got out the tents and asked Sev which he wanted. I was quickly informed that there was NO WAY he was taking something as geeky as a TENT on a CAMPING trip. Geez. What was I thinking? Only very uncool people sleep in tents. Cool people sleep under the stars.
And I predict that they will be very cool people, indeed, as the night temperatures here now drop down to below 60°F. That may sound warm to you folks living in temperate climates, but to those of used to tropical climes, that's freezing cold!

Yesterday was a busy morning, as I scurried about, getting ready for the big Thanksgiving feast scheduled to occur at my house today at 6 pm sharpish.
There was the usual stuff to buy….well, not so much. There's no cranberry sauce in the shops or canned pumpkin. But I did buy bread at the bakery, so that I could make the stuffing. I also hunted around town, trying to track down some decent soft drinks for my guests. For years, all you could get in Burkina were Coke and Orange Fanta. Over the past few years, the local bottling company franchise added Fanta Citron (lemon), Fanta Cocktail (citrus+mango) and, finally last year, the piece de resistance: Fanta Fiesta (strawberry!!). As I think Orange Fanta is a tool of Satan ("Welcome to Hell!" says Old Nick "Have a drink of this Orange Fanta, then we'll get you right to work raking live coals with your bare hands"), I was much heartened. But it was not to last. They quit making Fiesta a couple of months ago, and the Cocktail and Citron are nearly impossible to find. But after visiting several distributors yesterday, I happened upon a cache of Cocktail. Victory was mine!!!
As turkeys are rare birds (ha!) around here, I had to order ours a while back. In the interests of our holiday protein intake, I went by the butcher’s yesterday to verify that the promised birds would show up as scheduled this morning. I had to order two, as I was told they’d only weigh between 6 and 9 pounds each – a far cry from the 25 lb Godzilla-turkeys that roam the freezer sections of American supermarkets. Later, I was tempted by some inexpensive harvesty-colored fabric at the marketplace, so I suddenly decided to have new tablecloths sewn up for the event. As if I needed more to do. That involved a trip to the tailor, then they had to be picked up later, washed and ironed.
I also had a doctor’s appointment, had to get my head examined (X-rayed, specifically) and then there were many (4!) drives to various pharmacies searching for all the needed meds. My allergy woes and stomach ailments are too numerous and boring to go into. Suffice it to say that the amoebas will be gone soon and my cranium, while having a nice symmetrical configuration, has less than lovely sinus cavities.
While I was in the waiting room at the doctor’s office, I was re-reading Eat, Pray, Love. (thanks Babzee!) I came to the line where The author writes that her sister has described her sartorial style as “Stevie Nicks goes to yoga class in her pyjamas”. I once again had a good laugh at this, but glancing down at my worn tapettes, old pagne, grimy fingernails and frizzy, demented hair, I thought “Geez- My style must be: Stevie Nicks’ poverty-stricken sister goes to yoga class in her pyjamas during the sack of Rome.”

I've been really sick. I would have sworn it was Ebola, but as I didn't hemorrhage out of every bodily orifice and die, I guess it wasn't that. It was more of a sinus infection - bronchitis- fever thing. I had completely lost the will to live by Monday and Tuesday, but rallied on Wednesday, as I regained the ability to read. My headache had been so bad that I couldn't pick a book for days, which is horrible for me. But yesterday I got all the way through "The African Queen". Like most people, I've seen the old Hepburn movie, but I had no idea that it was orinially a novel. It's a funny old relic, well-worth a read. It's very different from the film- much better, as is usually the case.
But enough of that. How about some pictures? Everybody likes pictures? Right?
Last Friday, just before I got ill, we had some friends visiting from Chad. They were on vacation in Ouaga, to relax and do some shopping, which tells you just how bad N'Djamena must be. Anyplace that makes Ouaga in the hot season look good has to be pretty scary. In fact, they had been evacuated to France just before Christmas, as rebel forces approached the city. They're back now, but not exactly at ease. So, they came back to Burkina for a break to see their old friends. One thing on their to-do list was shopping. So, I took them to the local mall.

Hey, you can't get great shopping like THIS back in Chad! Anne was looking for buckets made out of old tin cans. The twins helped her hunt around.

Nearby the recycled metal goods was a huge area of the market devoted to "traditional medicine". The practioners are people who get called "witch doctors" in old novels like "The African Queen". The stands are piled with stringy bones, ashy powders, dried animal parts and skins, and all kinds of indescribable stuff. I managed to take one picture in one of the more quiet corners of the market. It's not one of the more impressive stands, but it gives an idea.

The thought now occurs to me that I was seen taking that picture and the owner of the stand put some kind of wack on me as punishment.